The Moment Baz Realised
by toothlessdaydream249
Summary: The moment that Baz realised he was *hopelessly* in love with Simon...


Baz

I remember the moment perfectly. I remember every thought. I remember every blink. And each time I do I almost regret it ever happening. _Bloody Simon Snow._

I was sitting in our room on my bed. It was so dark, no moonlight shining through the windows (which I had closed after Snow fell asleep because it was January for Crowley's sake) and no sounds coming from outside. Which surprised me; usually you could hear the merwolves in the moat or the silent hum of the Wavering Wood. But the only noise that night came from the bed beside mine. Simon Snow.

He was so close I could have killed him. Right there. Just a pillow over his head. I remember thinking that, imagining it in my head. But the thought of killing Snow seemed suddenly bad. I hadn't thought about it for months and then when I did, the concept of Snow being dead was no longer a pleasure for me to think about.

I hate him so much. I thought, smiling at the way he murmured in his sleep, his arm reaching up in the air and then flopping back down over his head, his bronze curls brushing his pillow.

He'd had a shower the evening before, and come out of the bathroom in his pajama trousers; the ones that the school gave you. (For some reason he seemed to find them comfortable). He walked out of the bathroom, wet hair and red face, a towel around his shoulders. I was shocked when I felt my heart flutter at the sight of a topless Snow, and I started to panic about whether I was having a heart attack or not, until he said, 'Baz, have you seen my aftershave?'

I felt my face burn. I had forgotten about his aftershave. 'How should I know?' I snapped, hiding my embarrassment by turning to the window.

'Well, I just can't find it, that's all.' And he ducked down to look in the drawer in his bedside table. He sort of spoke to himself as he looked, silently mumbling '…not in here, or there, I've looked in there…'

I tried not to grin as he bent down on his hands and knees to look under the bed. After a few seconds he raised his head up again and stared at me, scowling. Then he murmured, 'plotting…' before looking in his wardrobe.

While his back was turned, I swiped the aftershave out of my drawer and dropped it on his bed, crawling under my covers and facing away from him, smiling. I turned off my lamp and listened to him rummage for a couple of minutes before I heard a 'Oh, there it is.'

•••

It was the middle of the night when I woke up from a nightmare. I couldn't remember anything of it but I was sweating and gasping when I awoke. And I felt that I couldn't go back to sleep, so I sat and watched Snow.

And so there I was, on my bed at two in the morning. I got up after a while and took the aftershave from the bedroom, spraying it on my wrists and carefully placing it back where it was. The reason I'd had it before was because liked the smell and was using it on my pillow, and then I'd forgotten to put it back.

As I walked back to my bed across the room, fractures of my nightmare came back to me, and two things happened, one after the other. First, I felt a sudden emptiness scrape at my insides and a longing for warm, human contact. Secondly, I looked over at Snow – he was smiling in his sleep – and _realised_.

I furrowed my brow. '_Merlin and Morgana_.' I hurried back into bed, trying to think of _anything _else.

Why hadn't I realised this before? It was obvious. I stared at him constantly, I had never felt any hate towards him in those recent months. I'd been having dreams where I'd hugged him, or lay in his bed with him because he'd had a nightmare, and one time I even _kissed _him. It was just so _obvious. _

And it made me feel like an idiot.

I would never have a chance with him anyway. He had Agatha. Him and Agatha were probably going to get _married_ one day. _No. _I thought._ I have to stop this. Maybe it isn't true. Maybe it won't last. Hopefully I'll wake up tomorrow, take one look at him and then he'll go back to being my enemy. _

I'd had no idea how wrong I was.

•••

When I woke up the next morning, I had forgotten about it. Until I turned my head and saw the Chosen One having a lie-in, duvet up to his shoulders, breathing softly into his pillow, curls spread out across the sheets.

_Aleister Crowley. _

I was hopelessly in love with him.

I clenched my jaw, thinking the same thought over and over again.

_He must never know._

•••

'Simon, darling, it's time for dinner.'

Snow walks into the kitchen and brushes his hand on my waist. 'Hey, you didn't have to cook.'

'Of course I did,' I place his plate down on the table, 'I would cook for you every day if I could.'

'Thanks, Baz.'

I smile at him from across the table. He holds his hand out and I take it in mine, rubbing my thumb against his palm. He shovels the food into his mouth and I do the same (a little less ravenously) and my fangs pop. His face glows even brighter by candlelight, and I can see all his freckles clearly. My heart thumps in my chest.

'I love you, Snow.'

He glances up at me and, with food still in his mouth, says, 'I love you, too.'

After dinner, Snow decides to go straight to bed, but I still have to go out and find a few rats before I sleep. When I get back, I change and shower, and by then Simon is asleep on our double bed. He's splayed out across the whole mattress, and so I have to sleep close to him on the edge of the bed. My nose nuzzles into the back of his hair and I kiss his neck, arms wrapped around his waist. I ca—

'Baz…'

I look up at Snow from across our room. I'm sitting on my bed and he is standing on his, wearing his school pajamas and rubbing his towel into his hair.

'Baz.'

'What?' I scowl at him.

'I've lost my aftershave again…'


End file.
